UnCaged
by MirroredShalott
Summary: In a rare quiet moment, Harley Quinn dares to self-reflect.


**Author's Note:**

I just realized I never cross-posted this one-shot here. This is a brief character study I wrote a while ago to help get myself out of a writing funk. Takes place during the current run of Harley Quinn comics (and for what it's worth, I do enjoy the series).

* * *

 **[Un]Caged**

Most of Harley Quinn's life didn't feel real.

That was, perhaps, her greatest regret. She existed in a perpetual whirlwind; slave to a wayward sense of amplified empathy and an unchecked strain of legitimate madness. She'd felt the makings of it her whole life, a creature lurking beneath the surface, and while she didn't have the words to name it yet she knew – even as a child – that it needed to be contained. Those early years passed in silent struggle. She spent hours locked in her room, standing before the mirror, as she mastered the guise of normalcy. In time Harley learned to kill that wild spark in her eyes. She could smile without a manic air. Her accent faded as she stood there, repeating words to the thing in the mirror, forcing herself to believe something that a part of her always knew was a lie.

"Your name is Harleen Quinzel, and there is _nothing_ wrong with you."

Somehow it worked.

She fashioned the perfect façade. A calm and collected persona that was qualified to analyze others and dispense the appropriate wisdom in a professional standing. The act served its purpose, and for a while Dr. Harleen Quinzel was convinced that she could live a normal existence. Though, as the old adage went, "the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry".

She just never expected she'd play the role of mouse.

All it took was the right prodding, choice words spoken from the mouth of madness, to unleash the torrent of what she really was: a monster. Something that could not be contained, only delayed. Later she suspected it was all that pretending, avoiding the truth she'd known since childhood, that rendered her susceptible to his charms.

There was so much of him in her. Not in the literal sense (thought that was also applicable, at times) but he was the first to see through her mask – to glimpse the madness, that beast she'd caged – and he didn't give a damn. He didn't want the doctor. He wanted her as she truly was. And she'd slipped, as any person would, enthralled by his promise of unprecedented companionship. In the end, it didn't matter how many times he hurt her. It didn't matter if he beat her into submission or destroyed her sense of worth. They were the same breed of monster. That was the only thing that mattered.

Except she wasn't herself with him. Regardless of how good it felt – the freedom she'd discovered – their time together didn't feel any more real than when she played at the façade he'd shattered. Because he could insult her intelligence in new and impressive ways, but Harley Quinn was not an idiot. This was wrong, and, deep down, she knew it. All she'd accomplished by joining his freak show was trade one cage for another. The only difference was this particular cage felt more appropriate.

She watched, outside of herself, as this thing that both was and wasn't her wreaked chaos and spilled blood in the name of madness. It was horrifying, not just to see this creature she'd become, but because of how _easy_ it was to accept her fate. Maybe that's why it took her so long to fight against it. Maybe that's…

Harley was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of a contented sigh. She turned her head and looked at the woman lying next to her on the beach. She was naked, same as Harley, revealing a wealth of tanned skin and the small vines that wrapped around her limbs. At first glance it seemed that Ivy was asleep. She lay on her back atop the beach towel, eyes closed, as she basked in the tropical Sun. Harley knew better, though. She could read it in her friend's face. Ivy was relaxed, but aware, listening to the unspoiled nature around them. The plants were always speaking to her. Ivy would translate if she asked, but Harley rarely did. Everyone needed something special; a gift that was all their own. Besides, people were her particular fascination, not plants.

It was easy to marvel at the contrasts between them. Their differences were evident even on a physical level. Harley glowed like a beacon in the sunlight. Her unnaturally pale skin reflected most of the light that touched it. She couldn't tan (not anymore, thanks to him) but she liked the feeling of warmth all the same. Still, the metaphor was obvious. Where Ivy absorbed light Harley shunned it. Where Ivy spurned the human race, Harley tried to save them. Albeit in her own, twisted way.

And yet, for all their disparities, this worked. There was a part of her that would always be amazed by that fact. Harley was drawn to him because he understood her, and that had been her undoing. Ivy understood too – more than he ever did – but their relationship carried none of the risk. The true Harley Quinn lay somewhere between the calm, collected doctor and the mallet-wielding clown. With the rest of the world she was either/or, two distinct entities within one body, but with Ivy?

She wasn't torn between anything. She felt _real_.

"You're thinking too much," Ivy said. Harley couldn't stop the smile that formed on her face.

"How'dya know?"

"Whenever you're quiet for more than five minutes it means you're either asleep or musing." Ivy opened one eye and fixed the blonde with a look. "Besides, I could feel you staring at me."

"Can ya blame me? It's not like we can do this in the middle of Brooklyn. All those perverts with their telescopes and whatnot."

"That hasn't stopped you before."

"You were the one who suggested we go to the roof before gettin' all touchy-feely." Harley gave her a slight nudge with her elbow. "You're lucky I had a distraction all ready to go before we got the cops called on us for public indecency or wound up on some kinda raunchy super-villain streaming website." That garnered a chuckle from Ivy. The redhead opened her eyes and turned so that she was lying on her side, facing Harley. A soft smile touched her green lips.

"Nothing bad?" she asked. Harley returned the smile.

"No, not this time."

"Good." Ivy closed her eyes again. "Now stop thinking. We're on vacation."

Harley rolled onto her side so that they were lying face to face. It was quiet on the beach, save for the sound of lapping waves and the distant voices of the condo residents as they went about various tropical island activities. No one had intruded on their "alone time" all week. Not out of fear, that distinctive streak was absent from the residents' eyes, but a sort of respectful recognition for who they were and the company they kept. Of course, Sy could have also told them not to bother the two attractive female psychos if they wanted to stay out of the hospital, though Harley was appreciative all the same.

' _It's perfect here,'_ she thought as she gazed at Ivy's sun-kissed face. She rarely got to observe the redhead like this; away from people (mostly) and civilization (again, mostly). Ivy at home in her natural element would always be one of the most beautiful things Harley had ever seen. The blonde scooted closer to her friend/her lover/the one stable element in her life until they were almost touching. She abstained, for now. She didn't want to shatter the peaceful moment just yet.

This was something that Harley never thought she could have. The opportunity to relax and just _be_ without any sort of strings attached. When she was young she played pretend, exerting most of her energy in attempts to quell the beast. When she was with him there was a constant element of fear and paranoia. Here, now, she could let down her guard, and there was no big bad wolf waiting to gobble her up.

Harley closed her eyes and let her mind slip. Then, for the first time in years, everything stilled.


End file.
